


If You Were Evil... (then I'll do evil)

by neoclassicalwords, TrickrTreason



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: M/M, but more ghost fluff, ghost au, it's basically carrie, jeremy is more like his book counterpart, squip is a ghost
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2020-03-27 15:11:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19015441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neoclassicalwords/pseuds/neoclassicalwords, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickrTreason/pseuds/TrickrTreason
Summary: Jeremy Heere is your average teen, bullied and pitied by his peers, until he garners a little help from a supernatural force. How far will Jeremy go to get what he wants?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do not repost on another site.

The lights were off in Jeremy’s room as he sat in the center, surrounded by five black candles that he had bought from the dollar store, ouija board sat in front of him. He’d only ever done this a few times before with Michael but never as formal, never trying so hard to find something, to summon someone- anyone who could help him. 

It was Rich’s fault, it really was. 

If Rich didn’t bully him, didn’t shove him aside in the hallways or yell slurs at him none of this would have happened. It was all Jake’s fault, and Chloe and Brooke- if they had just done anything just said anything maybe he wouldn’t be here. No, the only time they ever talk to him is to pity him, to make simpering faces at the poor bullied kid who can’t even stand up straight, much less stand up for himself. To tell him if he just ignores Rich he’ll go away as if Rich exists only as a figment of Jeremy’s mind, a boogeyman made solid to torment him. 

If Michael could understand him more this wouldn’t happen. Jeremy knows that ‘guys like them are cool in college’ but it’s no use living for a future that isn’t even certain when the present is so shit, and Jeremy feels so helpless, so helpless that it feels like even his best friend doesn’t want to help him. Or can’t help him. Or some combination of can’t and won’t that tugs too hard on Jeremy’s heart that it makes it hard to breath when he needs to focus. Focus. 

He focused on the board in front of him, just barely illuminated by the candles around him, a kitchen knife sat in front of him. With a shuddering breath he grabbed the knife and cut his palm, allowing some of the thick red blood to drip and stain the wood board. He placed his hands on the planchette and spoke out loud. 

“Are there any spirits here tonight that will help me?” He was being too specific, he knew he was being too specific but he needed something useful. The planchette moved-

“J?” Jeremy asked, confused. It moved again. E. R. R. Y. H. E. E. R. E. 

“Jerry Heere?” Jeremy laughed, looking at the board. It was weird sure but, hell, maybe he was moving it subconsciously. It's not like it answered his question or even got his name right-

J. E. R. E. M. Y. H. E. E. R. E. J. E. R. E. M. Y. H. E. E. R. E. J. E. R. E. M. Y. H. E. E. R. E. J. E. R. E. M. Y. H. E. E. R. E

It kept spelling his name, going faster and faster until Jeremy wasn't even sure he was touching the planchette anymore until it stopped dead center. Jeremy drew his hands back like they had been burned, holding them close to his chest and watching the now stilled wood until the planchette moved unprompted, drifting slowly until. 

Hello. 

Jeremy gulped, watching the board with fearful eyes before he heard a voice. It was low and tinged with an accent of sorts, certainly not the Jersey accent Jeremy was used to hearing. A hand touched his own, wrapping its icy invisible digits around his wrist before a face appeared in the inky blackness of his room, tan with glittering black eyes and too pleasant a smile given the circumstances. 

“Jeremy Heere, it's good to finally meet you,” it said, voice no more than a hushed whisper only for Jeremy’s ears. 

“H-how do you know my nAME-” in a flash a man sat before him, beach swept hair and a permanently chill look, cross legged in a black suit and tie, blending into the darkness of Jeremy’s room. He was there but only just, Jeremy could see the outline of a candle through him. 

“Oh, I know a lot about you, Jeremy,” he purred, words pouring off his lips like syrupy liqueur. “I know your fears, I know your dreams-” Jeremy blinked and suddenly felt hot breath against his ear. “I know your rage.”

“Th-then you know why I summoned you,” Jeremy stammered, trying to raise up a false bravado. It laughed, a deep chortle that sent chills down Jeremy’s spine. 

“Oh yes, I know your rage- it's what drew me to you, boo.” Jeremy steeled himself, looking the specter in the eye. They glittered like dying embers in a fire pit. 

“So you'll help me then,” he said, wavering voice trying to hold still. It smiled at him. 

“I'll do more than help,” it breathed. Jeremy took a sharp inhale and stretched out his hand, palm sore and caked in dry blood. 

“Before we, uh, shake on it, uh, are you… evil?” Jeremy asked, tripping over his words. The specter smiled and held out its own hand. 

“Are you?” it returned. He looked coy, like he knew some great secret of the universe, and maybe he did. 

Maybe Jeremy was evil, but the softness of the ghosts features, the warmth it held in all its darkness, it drew Jeremy in. 

“Can I learn your name?” Jeremy asked. 

“Squip,” the ghost replied cheerfully. “Now Jeremy, are you ready to upgrade your life?” Jeremy hesitated. Was he ready to make a deal with a devil?

Was he ready to get all he ever wanted?

“Born ready, son,” Jeremy said, slapping his palm against the surprisingly solid hand of Squip’s. It grinned, bright and wolvish, eyes shining brightly in the darkness. 

“Now, let's get to work,” it said, before blowing out the candles, leaving Jeremy in pitch darkness. He heard the scraping of wood against wood and squinted into the dark to see what it was. 

The planchette had moved on its own. 

Goodbye.


	2. Chapter 2

Jeremy had been expecting more of an entrance from Squip. Like the spectres in the movies. All he got instead was radio silence from him for about a day. It made him nearly lose the last of his hope.

Squip, however, appeared anti climactically while Jeremy was at school. "Don't talk to me directly while you're in public. It will make them suspicious." When Jeremy gave him a questioning look, he reached out to tap his temple. "Think at me."

_Oh. Like in X-Men?_

"Sure," Squip said with a wave of his hand, nodding. "Just don't say anything like that out loud to me. Why don't you show me around? Get me acquainted with the key figures of your hatred?" He nudged Jeremy's chest. "It's still there, burning inside of you. We should change that." He turned his head when he heard the slam of a locker, Jeremy instinctively doing the same.

It was Rich Goranski, who Jeremy mockingly called Dick within the confines of his head. _He's the worst_ , thought Jeremy. _The worst of them_. 

"I can see why. Taking out all of his insecurities on others. A somewhat effective tactic, if not barbaric." Squip touched Jeremy's shoulders, almost defensive.

"I'm talking to you, tallass," Rich barked, staring up at him. "You can't pretend I'm not here." He laughed. "It's not gonna work."

"Just- zoned out," Jeremy had half a mind to blurt, Squip shaking his head in his peripheral vision.

"Yeah, well, next time, if you zone out, I'll make you black out. Fucking loser," he spat, shoving Jeremy against the metal harshly.

Squip snarled. Jeremy winced.

"I'm watching you." With that, Rich stalked down the hall, presumably to find another victim.

Jeremy hissed, rubbing his own back. "Fuck. That shit hurts."

"How do you feel?" Squip asked, winding an arm around Jeremy.

_Helpless. Worthless. But mostly pissed._

"That's what I like to hear," he drawled. "Now hurry. You don't want to miss lunch, do you?"

 _How did you_... Jeremy started, looking around.

"Clock."

"Oh," Jeremy mumbled, embarrassed.

"It's cute that you think I'm magic, boo." Squip lightly pushed him toward the cafeteria. "So, tell me about the others."

Jeremy looked at Chloe, Brooke, and Jake as he passed them in the hall. They were grouped together, laughing at something Jake said. He looked down at the floor, ignoring them.

Squip glowered at them for Jeremy's sake, cold grip on his shoulders tightening. "They're the ones that pity you, aren't they? The ones that stand there and do nothing while Rich beats you to a pulp. Wretched things. They deserve to _pay_." His grip tightened to an icy, white knuckled squeeze. 

Jeremy walked into the cafeteria, getting out a bag lunch from his backpack. _You know so much about me. Can I know something about you?_

"Well," Squip began, but he was cut off by Michael's arrival across from Jeremy with a 7-11 bag. "Who might this be?"

"Michael!" Both a greeting and an answer. "Great to, uh... How's your day?" Knowing Michael had a tendency to go on about things that interested him, he zoned out on purpose to continue talking to Squip. _So?_

"I don't know what to tell you, Jeremy. I don't... don't remember."

 _Oh_. Jeremy frowned, unintentionally getting Michael's attention.

"You okay, dude?" Michael asked, pausing mid-sip of his Slurpee. "Your face is all pinched up."

"It's nothing," Jeremy dismissed, looking at Squip out of the corner of his eye. All he saw was empty air, a vacant space where there was once something. He frowned further, deciding to actually pay attention this time around.

He wondered if the question had set Squip off. He was sure to find out eventually and this soothed him a moment.


	3. Chapter 3

It was only when Jeremy stormed up the stairs to his bedroom did Squip finally reappear, drifting slowly behind him. Jeremy didn't even have to turn around; the room dropping ten degrees alerted him to his new friend's presence. 

"Dude, where were you today?" he growled, slamming the door behind him. "You totally ghosted me all day after lunch!"

The ghost's lips turned up in a small smile. 

"Ghosted? That's a good one, Jeremy," he drawled carelessly. Jeremy frowned. 

"I'm being serious, dude. What is up with you?"

Squip frowned and picked invisible lint off its spotless inky black suit. "It was nothing, Jeremy. You need to be more chill, it's not like anything bad happened when I was gone."

The bastard was right. But still Jeremy persisted. 

"This is about your past, right? When you were still alive?"

Jeremy got it in one go. Squip's eyes went wide and he stopped fidgeting with his suit. 

"Jeremy, I don't want to talk about it," he said, voice low and even, like he was internalizing a flame.

Jeremy scowled at him. "Well, I do. I want to know who's been haunting me! For all I- for all I know, you could have been a predator or a murderer-"

"Like there isn't a murderer hiding deep within you, Jeremy."

"And- and I deserve to know just who you are!" Jeremy yelled over Squip, hands clenched like two fists protesting death at his sides. 

"Yeah?" Squip countered, tilting its head slightly. "Well I deserve to know who I am, too," he said quietly.

Jeremy paused, backing down sheepishly. 

"No one visits my grave. It's been so long since I've heard my real name I can't remember it, only the faded letters on my stone that haven't been washed away by weathering. You think you've got it tough being alive, but it's so much lonelier being dead," Squip said, a deep resounding feeling of dread coursing through the room. Depression weighed down Jeremy's bones like sandbags. 

"Squip- I'm- I'm sorry- I didn't know," Jeremy stammered, the words heavy on his tongue like boulders. Squip cast him a dark, mourning look like an angel in a graveyard. 

"You didn't know," he countered. "But now you do."

Squip drifted closer, closing the gap between him and Jeremy, noses nearly touching. 

"We both know what it's like to be forgotten- to be cast aside and left to rot, Jeremy. We're kindred spirits. I can feel myself growing stronger being near you," Squip flexed his hands against Jeremy's shoulders, feeling startlingly solid. "But this is our chance, our chance to know that no one will ever forget us, that we will live on in death."

Jeremy felt the air being sucked from his lungs as he drew deeper in to Squip, to his dark eyes and soft lips that said the most alluring things. Yes. They would be remembered. 

"Yes," Jeremy breathed, almost a whisper.

Squip cupped Jeremy's face with his hand, tilting his head up to look into Jeremy's eyes. 

"And you'll follow me, you'll do as I command for your benefit, for _our_ benefit," he said dreamily, as if casting Jeremy into a trance. 

"For us," Jeremy mumbled like a man enlightened, as if those words had no meaning before just now. 

"Good, Jeremy. Good. You make me so-" Wait. It was an unfamiliar warmth that shook Squip's core, changing the icy touch of his fingertips against Jeremy until he had to pull away for fear of being burned. Squip's eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, mirroring Jeremy's dazed yet confused look.

"I've... never felt this way before," Squip mumbled, looking down at itself for any physical changes. He reached out with shaky hand and touched Jeremy's chest, a pulse running through both of them that made Jeremy shiver pleasantly. 

"Jeremy, how are you feeling?" he asked, slowly sounding the words out like they were unfamiliar on his tongue. 

Jeremy's eyes widened. He blushed and shifted slightly. 

"W-warm," he said. "And like, cared for." Squip's frown deepened. 

Warm. 

_Cared for._

"I as well," it said softly, flickering in and out of existence. 

It was strange. It was confusing. 

It was frightening. 

Jeremy must have noticed. He was by Squip's side, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. 

"Hey, you don't have to be alone right now," he said quietly, the damned warmth rising through Squip's form yet again. 

"No, I just, I need time to think," it explained lamely, refusing to look Jeremy in the eye. He disappeared leaving behind a puff of black smoke. 

They disappeared leaving Jeremy utterly, utterly alone.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn't until a couple of days later in study hall that Squip resurfaced. Jeremy felt the chill first, shivering, then airy arms wrapping around him. _You're back._

"Why wouldn't I be?" Squip scoffed at the statement, having seemingly forgotten the debacle that had happened earlier in the week. He was acting like it had never happened. Jeremy could feel him roll his eyes. "We still have a job to do, Jeremy. To do that job, we must plan."

Plan. Right. _What are we gonna do?_

"That, Jeremy, depends on how far you're willing to go to get what you want." He brushed a thumb over Jeremy's cheek and Jeremy was putty in his hands, slumping in his seat.

_As far as it takes._

"Good," Squip mumbled sweetly, a startlingly happy look in his eyes. "More than good, actually. You see, there's only one way to get rid of an enemy for good."

_...Befriend him?_

"No, fool," Squip sighed, exasperated. "We're going to kill him."

_Kill him?_

"Yes, kill him." Squip drew close, icy breath on his ear, voice deep and soothing. "I know you've imagined it before." He spoke about it like it was a _fantasy_ of Jeremy's.

He probably knew about his fantasies already. He knew everything else.

 _Not, like- seriously. Not like a serious... thing._ Jeremy frowned.

"Denial will get you nowhere. We need to start planning if we want to do this. Unless... you don't want to go through with it after all?" Squip pouted. "I thought you were vengeful. I thought you had rage in your tiny, little, bitter heart." He poked Jeremy's chest, the touch sending shockwaves down his spine.

_Of course I want to go through with it._

"Now, that's what I like to hear." He patted Jeremy's head like one would pat a loyal dog. 

The bell rang all of a sudden, knocking Jeremy out of that headspace. He stood, gathering up his things, and trying not to look weak.

"Let's get to work," Squip crooned.

Jeremy could have sworn he heard a choir sing in the back of his mind.

"You'll finally be free. After all your hurt. Your turmoil."

_I can't wait._

"Neither can I, Jeremy. Neither can I."


	5. Chapter 5

"We need supplies. A weapon, gloves, a shovel. We need to dispose of the body, of course."

That's what the Squip said.

_A burial's too good for him._

A thought. Burning and bitter like fire whiskey bile.

"What do you suggest, then?"

_Rich needs to burn._

~~~~  
There was a party, not one that Jeremy was invited to but a party nonetheless. Jake Dillinger, low level bully and Rich's best friend was hosting it. So Jeremy and Squip had a big night ahead of them, a house full of bullies.

Jeremy sat on the edge of his bed, lacing up the heavy boots Squip picked out for him. He was dressed as some proto Donnie Darko in a skeleton body suit and a black zip up hoodie.

“You’ll blend into the crowd. You’re dressed up but in a way that makes you unmemorable.”

_Gee. Thanks._

Squip manifested himself at Jeremy’s feet, forearms resting on his knees. He was solid but not nearly as much as he was... that one time.

“Jeremy,” he purred, looking up at Jeremy with night sky eyes, black as anything and completely soulless. There wasn’t good or bad in his eyes, just empty stardust.

“Tonight is a very important night for us, Jeremy.”

_I know_

Squip smiled and leaned closer, Jeremy could feel his ghostly breath ice cold against his collar bones.

“Then you know what must be done.”

Jeremy patted his backpack that contained an array of important things. Gasoline, lighter fluid, vodka. Matches. Squip’s body glowed a bright yellow, like an overly excited scented candle. His delight was written all over his face in glittery eyes and a wide smile.

“You’re so clever, Jeremy. You won’t let us down,” he chuckled. He left one last lingering touch to Jeremy’s thigh before disappearing, body sifting away like little more than smoke.                                                                                                                  
They haven’t talked about it since, that night. Where Squip’s body burnt as bright as Jeremy swore his face was by the way his heart was pounding. Jeremy tried once but the startled look on Squip’s face that quickly turned into a scowl that said a lecture was on its way was enough to keep Jeremy quiet.

It didn’t mean he didn’t think about it. How lonely Squip said he was, how lonely Jeremy felt when Squip wasn’t there. The specter had no clue of personal space, always hanging off of or touching Jeremy and sometimes Jeremy could swear he saw a pink flush go across his face that brings out the ghost’s freckles, that makes him look so alive.

He finished lacing up his boots and took a deep breath, grabbing his backpack. He was angry, he’s always been, deep down, but tonight it feels different. It’s hotter. It’s redder. It curls around his chest and threatens to break his ribs.

He looks in the mirror, checking his costume and hair before something catches his attention. His eyes, normally a bright watery blue, look as hollow and lifeless as Squip’s.

_I can hide my dark gaze, you can shake my hand and maybe you can feel flesh gripping your own but in the end-_

“I am simply not there,” Squip finished through Jeremy’s mouth.

Jeremy grabbed his backpack and headed out for the door, not even bothering with his father who was passed out asleep on the couch, like being asleep would save him from the shit show of a life he's created for himself. Jeremy had a party to attend, and he's sure he's going to make a big hit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party is lit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late! I was planning to add my chapter just before Halloween and got very, very sidetracked. Hope you enjoy, long wait withstanding.

Ah, the cliche high school party. Much referenced, much parodied, and much attended. The image irritated Jeremy even when he wasn't under Squip's influence: a crush of people gyrating in a hot, sweaty room; smoky closets where the stoners burrow; the stench of booze thick in the air of a sex-rumpled bedroom. 

He was sick of seeing it so often, hearing about it shouted about in the dismal, locker-lined halls. Not because he wasn't included, but because when he was it was always humiliating in a way.

A memory was brought to the forefront of his mind-

_Rich Goranski standing there with a crumpled piece of paper in the center of a circle, Jeremy struggling to get through the crowd to stop him, the laughter in his voice like what he had written there was the most hilarious thing he had ever read, ever said._

_The broad grin on his face as he murdered Jeremy's social life, labeling him an outcast for all time._

_But the fucked thing about it was that instead of glee in his eyes, there was something akin to fear at the words._

But Rich was a fucked up guy. Jeremy knew that, had the evidence beaten into his skin, spat into his face, written on his backpack in Sharpie.

Thinking about it made his blood boil.

But Squip was there. To make sure he was okay. To make sure he would follow through with the plan. His presence, like ice water, diluted the red he was seeing, eased the burn scalding his chest.

But it wasn't measly water, it was liquid nitrogen, and he lit it aflame as Jeremy searched the building for his tormentor. The bass of the music ("I'm glad I died before this was popular, this is pure shit," Squip had snarked against the back of his neck, making his hair stand on end) pounded through him like a second pulse, thrumming just under his skin.

Squip worked the muscles of his face, giving pleasant expressions to people that he had no problem with. "You need to focus on him," he murmured, hand pushing Jeremy forward in the right direction.

Jeremy nodded to himself, making it seem like it was his head bopping to the beat. He peeked in a few rooms, gaining the ire of a few copulating couples, which he apologized to, earnestly embarrassed about walking in on them. It wasn't his to see.

"You like seeing it, though, right?" Squip teased, making his skin prickle.

_You said I had to focus._

"We can have a little fun."

_Fun?_

"Jeremy, think with your brain right now."

_You were the one that said it like that!_

"Psh."

Despite himself, he giggled, but it died off abruptly when he spotted Rich in the room at the end of the hall. They made eye contact for what felt like a painful amount of time, then Jeremy shut the door behind him.

"The fuck are you doing? Gonna give me your freak germs?" He snickered, but it sounded much different than his usual taunts. Weakened.

"What do you think?"

"Were you even invited?" Rich scoffed, crossing his arms.

"Like you give a fuck about what I do, Rich." Jeremy narrowed his eyes, which went apathetic.

The energy in the room had changed. Jeremy was in control now.

"Whoa, dude. Chill." Rich backed up a little, looking around. No windows. Jeremy was in front of the only exit.

"I don't want to chill. I'm the _opposite_ of chill." In Squip's tone, he added, "And I think you should be, too." 

"What- Um, Jeremy-"

Jeremy was walking toward him, smiling an un-Jeremy-like smile. He reached into the backpack, pulling out the vodka first.

"You're acting weird. Are you high?" Rich's eyes locked on the bottle, his posture only relaxing slightly.

"You could say that." Jeremy opened the bottle, and without much ado, dumped it onto Rich's head.

"Wh- What the fuck is wrong with you?" Rich sputtered, eyes burning with the sting of cheap booze.

"I thought you knew. You said enough that one time. With my letter."

"Dude, it was a joke. I thought you were over it."

"A joke, huh? That's funny. I wasn't laughing when you beat me up. I wasn't laughing when you treated me like shit."

Rich gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing heavily.

"But you were laughing. Funny." Jeremy fished a lighter out of his backpack. When he lit it, the flame glowed an unnatural blue. He cornered Rich, eyes narrowed into slits. "But who's laughing now?"

"Wait, Jeremy," is what Rich would have said, but he screamed instead as Jeremy tossed it at him and he went up in smoke. All Jeremy could smell was burning flesh and smoke, but he turned to the door. 

"Oh, and Rich?" He gave a wicked grin. "Lit party."

And just like that he was walking out of the party into the night, Squip walking by his side.

"You have a little something on your lip," he stated.

Before he could even ask what it was, Squip leaned in, the two of them frozen in tableau on the sidewalk.

When Jeremy pulled back, Squip smiled at him. He caught a whiff of copper and that's when he noticed all of the red. Coating his chest, arms, legs. His lips. He gasped.

"Is everything alright, Jeremy?"

Jeremy nodded quickly, looking away. And even when he showered that night before bed, he still smelled of the Squip's coagulated blood.


End file.
